A Cold Winter
by Dante the Prophet
Summary: Trooper Aleml, a fresh soldier of the Valkengrad 7th Legion, is in his first campaign. Druugmos IV, a major forgeworld for the sector, is under assault from the Ulthwé craftworld. As Aleml fights, he wonders if he will live to see another campaign.
1. Prologue

**_A COLD WINTER_**

Alright people, I'm kinda fed up with flamers... This is anger left from my early days on this site, so I would appreciate thoughtful comments, both in praise and not. Really, please. I need feedback from the world to either tell me I suck or I have promise. I would like to become a writer (as everyone would on this site), but I think I have some talent. So, direct me to the answer to my question: comment!

Dante the Poet

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Prologue

**THE COOL WINTER** wind of the northern seas blew in through the avenue. Fresh snow began to glide downward onto the rockcrete, layering carcasses and broken weapons. The soft crackle of gunfire and distant explosions echoed through the small intersection.

Red blood mixed to make a dark velvet. The road was littered with both alien and human, eldar and man.

Aolisk Aleml looked at the road. The bitter wind bit at his exposed face and fingers. Both the road and the wind seemed to numb him. The corpses of those who could have come to an understanding lay at his feet. Soon the blood would freeze, and the bodies would be lumps of ice.

Aleml looked at the seven dog tags on his clenched fist. The bits of crimson that had covered the tags had now solidified, giving a glazed look. His heart tugged at him and Aleml heaved a ragged sigh.

"What are we doing here, really? Who are _we_ to say that this was _our_ planet? We did take it from the xenos…we destroyed their sacred artifacts. What are we doing here, Edius?"

He listened to the silence for a moment, and he thought he was going to cry.

"We are here to instill the fact that the xenos won't take the planet. They caught us by surprise but we're here to stop them."

Aleml looked back at the man that watched him grieve. The figure stood tall. His stature was menacing, and the hard look he gave was fit for him. His commissar's cover almost gave the man a look of death Himself. The signet of the commissariat hung around his neck, dangling above his red and black uniform. The winter wind came in a stinging gust, making the greatcoat flutter behind him. The man's frown was unforgiving. Every part of him was terrifying. What Aleml fear most were his ice blue eyes, which looked over him forebodingly. The chillingly cold eyes watched him unfeelingly as Aleml fought back the tears. This man was truly a commissar.

"Pull yourself together Aleml; you're starting to sound treasonous."

The commissar's face became hideous with disgust.

"Druugmos IV is a complete wasteland now, Edius, and you know it. The factorias that were here have been gone for nearly a month! Both sides of this hellhole—this place of death on this Emperor forsaken rock—blew them up on planetary invasion! Why. Are. We. Here?"

The commissar growled loudly before answering. "The forge of the planet is crucial to the survival of the Imperial forces in this sector. Production will begin and the weapons handed out to the Imperium when we seize the planet back. The eldar have violated their boundaries and have entered into Imperial space for war. I'm sure you know of Druugmos II; this is just the second offensive of three that this alien _filth_"—Edius pointed his power sword to a dead Guardian—"had conjured up. You are to follow the orders of your commanders and the Most Holy Emperor. In those two things, you can find the strength and faith to defeat this xenos threat."

"Not doing so or questioning the order is treason," the commissar continued. "Aolisk, you are a fine man, but speak out of line once again and I will find you wanting."

And with that, Commissar Edius Winstorm turned and walked down the snow laden road.

Aleml looked his bundle of dog tags and whimpered. The seven metal pieces felt heavy, as if they could pull him to the ground. He looked at each of the names. Only one soldier was left. His face was gone, and Aleml couldn't remember what it looked like.

The rest were freshies, barely on the ground for three days before they had been killed. Eight boys: sons of farmers and hivers alike. The freshies' tags were useless, they meant nothing to Aleml.

It was almost too hard to bear.

Aleml sat on a slab of rockcrete that once had been a wall. The snow was now thick, slowly hiding the face his last man.

Aleml hid his own face with the dark shadow of his helmet. Warm tears trickled down his red cheeks, and the man fought to keep quiet. He tried to remember when the entire scheme had gone downhill. The past three weeks were hard enough to understand, much less remember. He finally gave up and took off his own dog tags.

Unfastening his chain, he slipped on his collection of tags with a smaller chain so they would hang with his. As he slipped them on a screeching sound tore through the air from the down the street. Aleml lifted his head and his eyes widened.

"Oh shit—"

The wall he was perched on evaporated and in an explosion of sound and fire, his body was propelled from the ground. His world spun rapidly, a mass of white and gray turned into a mixture of colors that Aleml couldn't have imagined. The whishing sound of air suddenly grew as Aleml's helmet flew from his head. He also felt his breastplate sail from his body.

Then, the chain broke.

Aleml didn't see where the tags went. Finally, his spinning world came to an abrupt stop as Aleml was tossed into the wall on the other side of the avenue. He landed leaning on the wall.

Aleml couldn't feel his legs. He tried to move them but he felt weak. His breathing slowed but the pain never came. His arms laid slack on the broken rockcrete. His laspistol sat within arm's reach, but he couldn't move his arms to get it. The iron taste of blood filled his mouth, and he opened it to expel vile flavor. It spilled from his mouth onto his greatcoat.

He lazily dropped his head to see shards of rockcrete in his chest and abdomen. Blood collected around the holes and trickled down his chest. He also noted that his legs were missing, bloody pools seeping around the gory stumps. It all seemed so unrealistic, like a holo-drama.

"Medic," he called out loudly, "Medic. I…need medic!"

Then, footsteps echoed from the direction the hostile shot had come. Dark figures sprinted through the smoke and dust filled street almost silently. Then, they came into view: Guardians. It was an entire squad, sixteen warriors strong. A Fire Prism skimmed by, followed by two Wave Serpents. The Fire Prism carried its weapon proudly, the most likely cause of Aleml's demise.

As a Warlock passed by, Aleml suddenly cried out for help. The alien jumped back, aiming its pistol at Aleml. Three Guardians joined it, aiming their shuriken weaponry at the injured man. Aleml raised his arm with all the strength he had left, and held out a grasping hand.

"Please…please…help me." Aleml tried desperately to grab a hold of something, an arm sleeve, a glove, anything. "I…need help…please…" His voice was almost a whisper.

The eldar lowered their weapons and looked to each other. Their strange language vibrated from their helmets and began to soften slowly. The sounds of war slowly diminished as well; the man knew he was dieing. After some time, the Warlock, brandishing a black and yellow gawdy helmet, aimed its shuriken pistol at Aleml's face.

Aleml's eyes widened in surprise.

_I'm going to die._


	2. Chapter 1

Sorry to have forgotten a few important words like "prologue" and such... Anything from this point is the actual story. Updates will be far apart and few, I think, but it will be done. Please be patient with me and my writing and anything that I do. I'll have "updates" but not with the story, but only for a few times. I think that I can get this done in a sufficient amount of time, and with that I need supportive reviews...what I said earlier must be interpreted as if I'm a small child with a huge problem with something that seems harsh. I can't hear you so I can take something wrong... Remember that and please be gentle with your words.

Oh and also, Estragon thanks for the very, very, vert, very well put comment. You didn't make me cry! Be proud!

Dante the Poet

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**CHAPTER I**

**_MY FAMILY._**

What was it that that caught his attention?

_I wonder what'll happen to mom and dad._

And that was his question among a vast sea of unanswered queries. Would they be alright? Would the trawler and equipment work as he had hoped? Would the Emperor take care of them while he was gone? Gone with his brothers? These were only a small few that had plagued him for weeks. With each question he tossed and turned in his bed in fear.

_What'll happen?_

The note, that's what had caught his attention. The parchment made of the urine colored wood, branded with the Imperial Eagle of the Lord Governor of this planet: Valkengrad. Why had it come? What did it mean? Where was he going?

_I'm going, and not coming back._

Orders for a draft were written in the letter, and he and brothers were to be in the Imperial Guard. An honor of sorts. He could remember the way his mother cried and his father blinking the tears away. The two were devastated; he and his brothers were all they had, really. Now the lot of them was being sent to fight for the Most Holy Emperor, never to return, never to see their parents again, to either die on a foreign planet or start a new life after duty was served.

_I'll never see them again._

Hot tears warmed the corners of his eyes.

_Never._

Then, something came to him, something his oldest brother had said: "Never fear, Nicolai is here!" He was always there for him, all of his brothers were. The seven of them would watch his back and always provide reassurance when needed. His kind face smiled in the boy's mind, a smile that was just like father's. He looked just like father, when he was young of course; a perfect image from the holo-picture from days long ago.

His brothers would protect him, just as his father had from the dangers of the world. As this floated through his mind, his heart lifted. He had his brothers to love him, to aid him, to comfort him. A gift from his mother and father? The Emperor?

_Nicolai?_

The eldest would watch over him with the love of a brother and father, he hoped. His mother's affection would never be replaced, however. He thought that all of his brothers realized that as well. He missed mother already, wanting to be wrapped in her warm embrace and never let go. He wanted his mother's protection to follow him on his journey, but alas, it never would.

_I miss them already…_

* * *

**SOMEONE CURSED LOUDLY** catching Aolisk Aleml's attention from the horizon. A taller man stood gazing at his foot, anger and pain contorting his face. He cursed some more and plopped down on the soft soil. It was the reincarnation of his young father, Nicolai Aleml: the eldest brother who promised his brothers' protection.

Nicolai stood after a moment and stretched. "What a beautiful day, huh Aolisk?"

Aleml nodded sheepishly. "Yeah, it is."

The eldest brother turned to Aleml with a look of confusion. "What's up with you? Are you thinking of tomorrow again?" Aleml nodded again, letting his face fall to its true state. Sad eyes watched the golden wheat around them sway softly. Nicolai slowly walked to his brother and stopped in front of him. His father's smile showed brightly on Nicolai's face. "Pick up, we're doing your favorite thing in the world, aren't we?"

"I suppose…"

"Suppose? So I drove out here with the twins screaming at each other for nothing?"

"No," Aleml quickly said, "it is my favorite thing. I just miss mom and dad." Nicolai smiled knowingly.

"I know what you mean."

The duo stood in the golden pasture in silence for a moment, their shadows growing at a snail's pace. The sun changed from yellow to orange, and orange to pink, from there to a deep red. The sky melted from its soft blue to a vibrant blue. After some time, Nicolai spoke.

"Beautiful."

Aleml grinned. "It is."

They sat in silence until it was broken by the identical twins Urikov and Tolenka. Their messy, brown hair was blow from their faces as they trotted to Aleml and Nicolai. Pure excitement was plastered onto their faces. "We found the bull!" Urikov said first.

"It can't be more than a kilometer away!" Tolenka finished.

_I thought he wasn't going to be here_…. "Do you think it's him?" Aleml asked, his heart beating furiously.

"It has to be him. It's your last day on this world, and I think he knows." Aleml nodded as Nicolai armed his huntinglas and followed the twins. Aleml took one last look at the now dark sky and moved on. He could feel his tree-patterned cloak flap around him as he and his brothers moved along the bull's trail, which was pretty fresh. It was exhilarating hunting something that was the size of a cattle buck and as dangerous as the ferocious mormoroth.

He couldn't believe the size of the hoof prints until he found something indented into the tree next to him. Rack scratches. One row of scratches was missing; it was Turkan, his first miss. Years ago, Aleml had clipped the bull's racks by falling from the tree he was hiding in. He had been after the animal ever since.

"Hush," he said to his brothers, and they stopped. "Turkan is mine."

Nicolai smiled, saying two his other younger siblings, "Watch a true hunter at work you two; he may show you something."

They moved into the brush as Aleml made his way after the bull. It was dark now and the moon was glaring at him through the leaves. Light was chopped up into scattered shards of white on the dead grass and the trunks of the surrounding trees. The silence was deafening as he listened to his own heart beat within his chest. Each step seemed that it would wake the world and his breathing could have attracted every man in fifty miles. Aleml couldn't hear over his own thoughts as he followed the trail through the woods to a clearing which was lit up by the two moon's light. It revealed a sea of waving wheat and the fresh smell of hickory. Someone was cooking. The moons' glow enveloped everything in the valley, every unused harvester and farming instrument. It even illuminated the bull that stood in the middle of the moving ocean of wheat.

It stood looking at Aleml. Turkan's posture almost said: "What are you waiting for? I'm here and now it's time for me to go."

He was going to get the bull after all.

He raised his huntinglas and did as he had been taught as a youngster. Look down the barrel and to your target; don't aim with your eyes but with your heart. Always have two fingers on the trigger and slowly squeeze. The huntinglas kicked softly and Aleml dropped the rifle.

Turkan was gone.

Nicolai, Urikov, and Tolenka crashed through the brush and stood next to the young hunter. "Wow…" said the oldest brother.

Urikov sighed sadly and put his hand on Aleml's shoulder. "You almost had him, Aolsik."

Tolenka placed a hand on Aleml's other shoulder as his twin did. "It was a close shot."

Nicolai shook his head and smiled. "You know…I think you did him a favor, Aolisk. Now with you gone, he won't have to worry about hunters." This made Aleml giggle for a moment as he slung his huntinglas over his shoulder. The four of them listened to the whispering stalks as they swayed with the cool breeze of night before turning back through the woods to father's old truck. It was a quiet ride home to the fishing village.

* * *

"**WELL, I'M SORRY **that you didn't get Turkan, Aolisk," said Mother with a kind smile. She served Aleml some Waylan potatoes which were steamy and smothered in butter. The boy grinned as he picked up his fork and plopped a potato into his mouth.

"Don't feel bad, Mother," he said, savoring the taste of the potatoes.

Aloyoshenka, the second to youngest brother, grinned widely to younger brother as he served himself some fried fish. "With the aim you have, I'm surprised that you missed."

"Your aim was legendary here in Drovport, what will the neighbors say?"

"Shut up, Feliks!" Aleml punched the man's arm.

"No hitting you third oldest brother!" he retorted. "It'll get you a nice slap."

"And that slap will get you a severed hand," Nicolai growled. "Be nice to the kid, he was close."

"Close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades," said Urikov.

"I thought it was water bombs and stickball?" asked his twin.

As the two went back and forth, the second oldest son in the family leaned over and smiled at Aleml. "I think that it won't matter anyway. Where we're going you won't be known for miles." This note made the youngest boy smile sadly, unable to hide his feelings about their impending departure. The older sibling noticed and frowned. "I'm sorry, Aleml. I didn't mean for it to come out like that."

"Bolo, it's alright," Aleml said, waving the feeling off.

"Bolodenka, what have you done now?" asked Mother in a stern tone.

"Nothing, Maw, I was just trying to make Aolisk feel better."

Grigorii laughed loudly. His rank as fourth oldest made him immune to several punishments from his older brothers, as they believed that he was the clown of the eight boys. "With words like that, I think you might make the kid cry." His next sentence was cut off by a quick twist of his ear. He whined in pain pleading for Mother to release his ear. Finally, she nodded and let her son free.

"Now that is over," Father said, finally piping up into the conversation, "Let us give grace to the Emperor. Nicolai?"

"Yes father." The eldest boy stood and bowed his head, hands clasped together. "O, Holy Emperor, please bless the food that we now take into ourselves in memory of all you've done for us in the dark past. We ask you to grant all wishes be made true and all suffering end in the universe. In your undying name: The Holy Emperor of Man."

"Amen," the family said.

Aleml blushed a little bit, realizing that he had consumed a piece of potato before the blessing and hoped that the Emperor would forgive him. And it seems he would, as the conversation started off happily. There was no talk of the next day, only that of the past and present. Memories of friends and marriages and fairs and near death experience were passed around the table with uproarious laughter, brightening the room with cherry red faces and smiles that went from ear to ear. It was one of those moments that seemed to last for ever, yet didn't last long enough. Aleml realized that when Nicolai volunteered Aleml and himself to was dishes with his mother.

Normally, Aleml would have protested, but it his last night at home he wanted to spend as much time as possible with his mother. While the table was cleared, Aleml, Nicolai, and mother washed dishes in sorrowful silence.

**

* * *

**

**THE MORNING SUN** didn't break the clouds the next day. It was cold, unlike the day before. A chill wind blew in from the sea, bringing the tart smell of salt through the town. It was early, but early enough to see. The streets were empty when they should have been full of fishermen and fishmongers readying for the day. It didn't seem likely that that would happen this day.

Aleml had packed his small kit of personals in the family truck turned to walk one last time through the streets of his home town. His shoes clicked on the cobblestone road as he scuffed his way toward the docks, his stall. Everyday since he was ten, he'd come down these streets to sell fish with his father and mother, sometimes going out onto the water with his brothers on the family trawler. What was military life going to be like?

The boy suddenly found himself in front of the docks. The trawlers and grav-boats rocked softly in the flat water that shown like glass. Salt and fish layered the surroundings with their pungent odor.

_After a storm comes fair weather, after sorrow comes joy._ He smiled a little, remembering the famous Valken proverb from the schola.

Rocking back and forth on his feet he began to map out his future. Even though he was moving to be trained with the Imperial Guard, he could make plans for his new, exciting life. And the very real possibility of death. Aleml made a face that bordered on sadness and disgust. If he was to die, he would die honorably, he hoped; cowardice was not an option for a Valken. Fight or die: the two choices he could make under his comrade colonels and generals. He would fight…but would he die?

Aleml could feel the blood draining from his face and he felt scared. He didn't want to leave home, away from his mother and father. Being away from their caring arms would hurt him so…

"I don't want to go," he said timidly, walking back to his house.


End file.
